


The Things I Want To Say

by doorwaytoparadise



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/pseuds/doorwaytoparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with words written on their skin, visible only to themselves, that belong to their soulmate. The words, however, are the last ones you hear them say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things I Want To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that one post from tumblr that said "soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them".

Douglas Richardson stared in the mirror, eyes tracing the words stamped across his heart, visible only to him. He had spent a lot of time growing up not understanding the implications of the simple sentence. Now, well into his teenage years, he thought he might be starting to get it. The first relationship where he thought there was something real, and it had fizzled out in the end. There had been yelling, and plenty of emotions, as was typical of two adolescents, and eventually Douglas had stormed away, declaring them finished. It had hurt at the time, and it hurt even more as he stood re-reading that damning statement.

' _Please don't leave me._ '

'Fine,' he thought. 'Next time, I won't leave.' He preferred to pretend it wasn't inevitable.

-

Decades later, with three marriages behind him, and a myriad of other failed relationships, Douglas wondered if there was something wrong with him. He'd made a habit of sticking around longer than he should, and he knows it, especially evident with Helena. He knew she was cheating, but he couldn't bring himself to be the first to leave, terrified to hear those words and know he was the one walking out. It's brought him plenty of heartache, but at least he hasn't turned his back on his soulmate yet.

When the newest captain arrived at MJN, all nervous and uptight, he's unimpressed. The man's preoccupation with rules and regulations grated on his nerves, and his prissy disposition, coupled with his constant assertion of his rank, had Douglas rolling his eyes more than anything. Yet somehow, between the annoyance and exasperation, Martin Crieff shone in his own strange way, and three years down the line, Douglas found himself laughing in the flight deck, content in a way he hadn't been in a long time. He takes a moment to observe the captain when he isn't looking, and acknowledges the feelings he knows are forming. Silently, he vows once more that, should anything come of this, he won't be the first to walk away.

=

Martin Crieff ran a hand over his chest, thumb brushing across his soulwords. He bit his lip nervously, wondering yet again at where his life would lead. He knew where he wanted to go, but two failed CPLs already, and he was starting to doubt himself. He was sure it was fate that he became a pilot, but those stupid words were making him nervous. He cursed the fact that they told him so much, quite a bit of which he didn't want to know. Would he be damning his soulmate to their end, following through with his dream? Martin shook his head, returning to the books in front of him, knowing that worrying about it, as he had for years now, wouldn't help him in the least. Still, he bent over to review the safety regulations, determined to know them inside out, hell-bent on preventing the implied disaster in his words, as they echoed in his head.

' _It's been an honor, captain._ '

'A goodbye,' he thought. 'It's just a general goodbye.' He tried to deny he was lying to himself.

-

Years down the road, with a pilot license finally acquired, Martin feels the first stirrings of panic. He's the new captain of MJN Air. _The captain._ He's finally a captain, and it makes him so ridiculously nervous, and he knows he makes a bit of an ass out of himself to his new first officer, but he can't help it. The safety operation procedures have to be followed, now more than ever, because he won't risk it, won't risk it being this new co-pilot, even if he does rub Martin the wrong way. Douglas Richardson is arrogant, disregards the rules, and carries himself with a smug superiority that sets Martin's teeth on edge. He's so much better than Martin in so many ways, and perhaps it makes Martin emphasize his rank a little too much, but he's just so aggravating. And nothing is more aggravating than finding himself attracted to the man. He has his faults, but he's also smart, an excellent pilot, and a reliable friend, and Martin sits in his seat, wondering where the three years went. He glances at Douglas out of the corner of his eye, feeling his heart beat faster, both out of developing feelings and a touch of fear. He prays that if it's him, it just doesn't work out between them and nothing more than that, because he's not sure he could bear to lose what he's only recently found.

==

Three years of flying together, and it seems that with every person they meet, every client they fly, there is an increasing frequency in most of them assuming the two pilots are in a relationship. The easy rhythm they fall into instinctively, the light bickering, and the occasional teasing flirty remark tend to lead just about everyone to the wrong conclusion. At the start of this trend happening, there was vehement denial, with Douglas still being married, but as time progressed and a divorce came and went, the rebuttals became fewer and less insistent, until they just stopped altogether. Three years, countless flights, and a slew of strangers connecting dots the wrong way slowly pushed them towards each other, but both men were proud, stubborn, and perhaps a bit in denial, too set in their ways and too wary from their past hurts to really come together.   
It's not until it's the first year anniversary of Carolyn seeing one Hercules Shipwright that things finally take-off between them.

-

The three men of MJN, Martin, Douglas, and Arthur, are all in the portakabin one mildly rainy day. Martin is hunched at his desk, dutifully writing away, as Douglas makes a point of not doing anything even remotely resembling paperwork. Arthur is carefully making coffee for both pilots, and he sets the mugs down cheerfully. Martin mutters a low 'thank you' as he takes a break to stretch, and Douglas casually takes a sip of his.

“Thank you, Arthur. I assume Carolyn is out with Herc all of today?”

“Yeah, isn't it brilliant? It's their anniversary!”

“Mmm, yes, _brilliant_ , that they're off gallivanting about town, while we sit here working.”

A scoff from Martin makes Douglas glance up at his captain. Seeing the incredulous look on his co-pilot's face, Douglas smiles innocently and amends his previous statement.

“Some of us more than others.”

Martin rolls his eyes, ignoring Douglas in favor of his coffee, apparently deciding to not even dignify that with a response. Douglas grins.

“I will admit, I'm impressed that they've dated for a year now. Lord knows, if ever there were an unlikely couple, Carolyn and Herc fit the bill.”

“Er, yeah, but Douglas, you probably shouldn't call it dating to Mum's face...”

“Of course.” Douglas replies flippantly, waving off Arthur's concern. There's a beat, before Arthur pipes up.

“When's yours then?”

“My what?”

“Anniversary. You and Skip...?”

Martin jolted at his desk, head snapping up to stare at the steward, as Douglas gaped slightly in surprise. Martin cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Arthur, Douglas and I aren't dating.”

“Really? You're not? But whenever people think you are, you don't correct them anymore. I thought that meant you had started.”

“Well, um-”

“Oh! Is it like how Mum says she and Herc aren't dating?”

“N-not quite....”

“Oh.” Arthur frowned, brows furrowing together as he stared at the two pilots. “I'm confused.”

“Uhm-”

“Don't worry about it too much, Arthur.” Douglas smoothly cut in, leaving it at that, and Arthur, though still sporting a look of confusion, moved on.

Martin and Douglas shared a look, silently agreeing to talk about the subject later.

-

“He has a point, you know.” Martin began without preamble. They were both walking to where their respective vehicles were parked.

“Hmm?”

“Arthur. We don't correct people who assume we're a couple. And it happens pretty regularly.”

“Well, at this point we've learned from experience that it is, for the most part, not worth the trouble.”

“Is that all it is?”

Martin asked absently, like the answer wasn't really important, but the weight behind the words held a significance neither man had really dared to look at closely before.

Douglas halted, now that they were standing between Martin's van and his Lexus, and turned to face the other man. Martin was stopped as well, head tilted to watch the distant flight path of a passing jet as it left trails across the sky. The weather had finally cleared up and left nothing but blue sky behind.

“Perhaps not.” Douglas conceded. Martin shifted his gaze to his co-pilot, giving him a small, hesitant smile.

“Shall we find out?”

Douglas smirked, and a faint flush rose to Martin's face. 

“Why, captain, I'd be delighted.”

=

Martin and Douglas made no attempt to hide their relationship from Carolyn and Arthur, and in turn, Arthur made no attempt to hide his excitement and Carolyn made no attempt to hide her disgust with their PDA. (She didn't mean it entirely, but it was hardly something she enjoyed walking in on.) They found themselves more content than either of them had been in a long time, and the relationship progressed quickly and steadily. They had long been acting domestic together, but now the banter and seamless flow of the flight deck was permeated with small affectionate gestures, holding hands, and dragging each other into dark corners or hotel rooms for more intimate activities. 

Before they knew it, a year and a half had passed, and they wondered why it took them so long to get their act together. They both knew there had been something more than saving themselves the hassle when it came to letting people carry on assuming. The truth was, they'd stopped denying being together as soon as Douglas was no longer married because it just felt so right. There was no ignoring the way they fit together, both at work, and later, outside of flying. There was a sense of utter completeness that permeated their interactions, and though neither of them would ever say it loud, they were both fairly certain they had found their soulmate, the love of their life, the one person meant for them in the world. 

==

The flight was a standard cargo run, but it was one Carolyn and Arthur had both opted out of, Arthur more reluctantly than his mother. The two pilots went through their pre-flight checks and took off, a word game already starting not long after leaving the ground. They spent some time trading answers and making light conversation, as they made their way towards to their destination, the familiar comfort of their usual routine lulling them both into relaxation.

They're somewhere near 30,000 feet when there's a minor mechanical failure, some bit of GERTI that's fallen off, as usual, and Douglas sighs. _Typical_ , he thinks, and shifts to adjust their flight to compensate. He glances to his left and sees Martin frowning down at the controls, an odd look on his face, almost... foreboding. He finds himself opening his mouth to reassure the other man, instead of the quip he would usually respond with.

“Nothing vital this time, captain. I imagine the old girl is just being fussy.”

Martin snaps his gaze up to look at Douglas, blinking in surprise. He swallows down his nervousness.

“Fussy, right, yes, s-she's just being her usual fussy self.”

Douglas frowns at the odd note he hears in Martin's voice but doesn't comment.

Nearly an hour passes before another warning light suddenly goes off, and both men stare at it in alarm. Another part of GERTI has failed, this time a bit more serious, and they can feel the plane start to lose altitude. 

“Martin...”

Martin turns his head to look at Douglas. The other man is uncharacteristically solemn.

“We'll have to try and land her on the water.”

They were currently over the ocean and would be for sometime, so Martin wordlessly agreed, and called it in to ATC. This would just be a standard emergency landing, and they'd be fine, and everything would be fine. He tried to ignore the knot of dread forming in his chest, as he fervently hoped this ended up far less severe than it could be. Perhaps it was the fear slowly gripping his heart that drove him to speak up, but Martin found himself opening his mouth before he had really processed it.

“Douglas.”

Martin doesn't lift his gaze from where it's glued to the gauges in front of him, even as he feels Douglas' eyes on him. He gathers his courage and straightens in his seat.

“Douglas,” He said again, pausing to savor the name on his tongue, “Thank you. E-everything up to now...you've made it worth it.”

Martin glanced to the older man's face to see his reaction. Douglas, for his part, was staring unblinkingly at Martin, jaw clenched tight and brows furrowed. He opened his mouth and hesitated, just for a moment, before he spoke.

“Martin. I cannot imagine how I survived this long without you. So, thank _you_.” 

Martin rapidly blinked back the tears he could feel forming. Without thinking, he reached a hand out across the space between their seats. Douglas immediately extended his own hand, palms meeting and fingers threading together, both gripping tight. The silence that stretches between them could almost be called comfortable, if not for the circumstances, and they both take a minute to compose themselves, as emotional pilots are considerably less capable of landing a plane, even in the best of conditions.

' _But he didn't say it._ ' Martin thinks in the calm before the storm, and he desperately hopes this means they somehow survive, unaware that Douglas is thinking much the same thing.

Suddenly, they hear a stutter of noise, followed by a different kind of silence that envelops the flight deck, all-encompassing as it hangs heavy in the air. Both pilots turn to look at each other in horrified realization. They had just lost both their engines.

They're not too far above the water now, but the sudden loss of the engines means this landing is going to be considerably worse than they thought, and quite likely fatal. They have a window of time now, where they're both stuck in their seats, unable to do more than watch as the bright blue of the ocean gets closer. They've done all they can to prepare, now it's just up to chance and luck. 

There is a moment, a brief pause in time, with bodies braced for impact, where their eyes lock and the world around them falls away. There's just so much between them, it's nearly unbearable.   
The water is fast approaching, and Martin can practically hear the rushing waves, feel the ocean spray on his skin, and he glances at his co-pilot, his friend, his everything, and Douglas looks back. The other man inclines his head in a half-joking show of respect, tipping his hat, and letting his lips quirk into a small smile.

“It's been an honor, captain.”

Martin barely has the time to process those words, eyes widening in _shock horror despair_ , before the plane violently hits the surface of the water and everything goes silent.

-

_Dark..._

_Wet...?_

_Pain..._

_fear falling crashing_

_Crashing..._

_Douglas!_

Martin gasped as he breached the surface, exploding up from beneath the sea with a desperation he's never felt before. The shock of the landing combined with his ringing ears and pounding head made it hard to get his bearings. He could barely tell which way was up, and while the waves were eerily calm, the depths they had landed in made it hard to keep afloat.

Head whipping around wildly, Martin tried to find any sign of Douglas, any indication that the other man had managed to find the surface as well. 

“DOUGLAS?! DOUGLAS!”

He panted as he tread water, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. 

“DOOUUG-LAAAASSSS!”

A small noise came to his right, and Martin whirled around, immediately spotting the flash of white past a piece of wreckage. He forced his way over, briefly dipping underwater to hook his arms under Douglas', and hauled the other man's head above the surface. Both of them were gasping for breath, injured and exhausted, as Martin cradled Douglas in front of him, helpless to do more than just keep them afloat. 

“Douglas, Douglas god- are you okay?”

Douglas didn't answer, breathing raggedly, and Martin felt his panic rising. 

“Douglas?”

There was a brief pressure on his hand, as Douglas squeezed it, but his grip was weak and fell away quickly. Martin tipped Douglas' head back to rest on his shoulder, eyes darting across his co-pilot's face for some sign that he'd be alright. Douglas' face was blank, eyes half-lidded, skin pale, and his breathing still hadn't slowed. Martin's brows furrowed tightly, before a flash of something in the corner of his eye pulled his gaze away. 

_Red._

There was red in the water. All around them, and spreading rapidly. 

Martin felt his own face quickly lose color as he snapped his attention back to Douglas. The other man was looking at him now, face tight with pain and misery, an apology in his eyes. He shifts them both so he's up against Douglas' side and Douglas' shoulder is now pressed against his heart, right where his soulwords are imprinted on the skin, and he's never hated that mark more than in this moment.

“No.” Martin's voice wobbles. “No, god, no, Douglas.”

He breaks off with a sob, eyes filling with tears.

“Douglas,” Martin chokes on the name, pressing his face into Douglas' hair, and clutching him tighter.

“No, please. Please.”

He's begging, praying, throwing his pleas to the unfeeling sky, and he's not sure who he's praying to, but he'll take anyone, anything, if only they'd make it so they both get out of this alive. He pulls his face away to gulp down air between his half-choked sobs, one hand moving to cup Douglas' jaw. Douglas slowly, deliberately, brings his own hand up to cover Martin's, and Martin feels himself start to crumble.

“Ple-” He stops, unable to continue as his voice breaks. A large shaky inhale. Eyes meeting. They both have tears now.

“Please don't leave me.”

Douglas blinks once, twice, and several tears track down his face. He stares up at Martin, like he's looking at his salvation, and gives a slow, sad smile. His eyes slide closed and moments later, his body goes completely limp in Martin's arms. Martin chokes out a breath once, twice, and shatters completely. 

 

==

Martin can still hear the ocean. 

The crash of the waves echoes in his ears, drowning out his awareness of the world, and muffling the voices around him. He is numb.  
The cold of the water feels like it has sunk into skin, and it hasn't gone away even with the shock blanket around his shoulders. There's a cup of warm something cradled in his hands. He thinks maybe Arthur put it there. Arthur and Carolyn were there, somewhere, and he'd barely acknowledged their presence before sinking into what felt like drifting through nothing. Staring into the empty space in front of him, Martin parts his lips and exhales heavily, the sound almost too loud to his own ears.  
The taste of salt still clings to his tongue, alongside Douglas' name.

Arthur is by his side again, speaking rapidly, and Martin can't hear a word he's saying over the roar of the waves. He sits in a daze, mind still trying to process the loss he has suffered. He doesn't notice the departure from the hospital's stark white walls, the drive to Carolyn's house, or being led to a bedroom, until he's already buried himself under the covers. Lying there, in the dark, curled in the center of a bed too large for him alone, he thinks he never wants to move again.

Five days later, the funeral comes, and with it, a storm, both literal and metaphorical. The sky splits open over the graveyard, pouring rain across the freshly turned earth, and Martin stands before the headstone, feeling something hot and painful well in his chest, as he stares at the name engraved on the surface. 

He goes to Douglas' flat. The rooms all have things that belong to him, having practically moved in months ago, and Martin walks stiffly between the furniture. He stops in front of the bookcase, staring at the stack of flight manuals sitting there. Martin's jaw clenches, and in an instant he has seized the stack and flung them across the room. The well-worn books fill him with a sudden rage and he cannot stop the feeling, snatching one up and ripping at the pages. What is the point, _what is the fucking point_ of rules and regulations when they could not save the only person who mattered. Martin doesn't realize he's started crying until he's kneeling on the floor, feeling so empty he cannot bear it. 

He sleeps in Douglas' bed that night. The sheets still smell like him, and Martin wonders why the world is so cruel, to let you find the one person meant for you just as you lose them. 

=

Martin spends several days on auto pilot, mentally screaming ' _why?_ ', and shuffling between rooms, barely keeping himself alive. There's some dark corner of his mind that would like nothing more than to follow Douglas to the grave, but he quiets that part of himself, afraid of that kind of thinking.

Arthur comes by every day, bringing food and making sure Martin gets up and dressed and showers, and Martin can't decide what to feel in the face of it.

=

Time passes, and Martin has slowly learned how to move forward. The ache in his heart has faded to a dull throb, ever present, but relegated to the back of his mind. He's become stronger in the face of this, he thinks. He stands taller, more sure, braver somehow, now that he's been dealt a tremendous blow and survived. He's not completely recovered, and there are still moments where he forgets that he lives alone. Some mornings he still reaches across the bed, sees flashes of familiar clothing around corners, swears he can hear humming in the kitchen, and the loss hits him again like it's brand new, but he soldiers on.

It is just over a year later that Martin finally dares to step into a flight deck again. Carolyn had acquired a new plane, courtesy of insurance money from the crash, and had pointedly left the position of captain unfilled. Herc had stepped in to provide her with at least one steady pilot, and she'd had a few others as temporary fill-ins. 

The routine is an old familiar one, and Martin knows he's missed it, though it doesn't bring quite the same joy it once had. Still, Herc smiles encouragingly at him, as he grips the controls, and he carefully eases the unfamiliar aircraft into the sky. The successful take-off feels like freedom, and Martin knows he is healing with every second spent in the air. 

=

Martin is nearing the end of his journey towards moving past the disaster that nearly broke him, and he finally feels like he can breathe again. He returns to the place where they crashed, or at least as close as he can get without a boat. He stands on a cliff overlooking the vast expanse of ocean, and stares out to the horizon. The sky is cloudy and dim, and there's a mild breeze, carrying the scent of salt to land, and Martin lets the quiet calm him. He can see the distant spot where he knows GERTI went down, and it's with relief that he realizes he doesn't feel the crushing grief that had been weighing him down for so long.

Martin tilts his head back, and spreads his arms, closes his eyes, and simply breathes. The breeze picks up around him, and a sudden gust blows in from the ocean, in the same direction he had been staring, and he feels the wind push at his clothes, brush through his hair, and it feels like letting go. All of a sudden it stops, the world stills, and Martin is left where he was, alone, but lighter, and like he is finally able to move on. The air warms as a few streaks of sun fight their way through the clouds, and there is a whisper through his mind, or perhaps on the breeze, that makes Martin smile for the first time in a long time. 

_'It's been a honor, captain.'_

“It was my privilege, Douglas.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _I can tell the way you smile, if I feel that I could be certain_  
>  _Then I would say the things I want to say tonight._  
>  -The Way I Feel Inside, The Zombies


End file.
